Sometimes my dog will be sitting in my lap, being hugged and petted on, and he will begin to whine and whimper as if there’s still not enough affection getting expressed, as if it’s impossible that there could ever be any demonstration that would measure up to the love he feels.

It has long seemed absurd to me, but I think I finally get it. I do.

Because, y’all, I just can’t love this enough:

This is what the front of my upcoming book with Millbrook Press, ‘The Nutcracker’ Comes to America: How Three Ballet-Loving Brothers Created a Holiday Tradition, will look like. It’s illustrator Cathy Gendron‘s first picture book, and I think she’s done just an astounding job.

I love how Willam, Harold, and Lew Christensen pop right off the page even amid the terrific onstage action. I love the shade of blue that the scene is bathed in. I love the swords. I love everything about this cover.

The book will be out this coming fall, and I hope to be able to share with you some of the interior illustrations soon. (If you’re at the Texas Library Association conference in April, maybe you can even see an advance copy in person.)

But in the meantime, here’s what the entire jacket — front, back, and flaps — looks like:

Rather than share the Klan-glorifying poster for The Birth of a Nation, I thought I’d offer this depiction from The Amazing Age of John Roy Lynch.

There’s been lots published this weekend about the 100th anniversary of D. W. Griffith’s film The Birth of a Nation — about how its technical greatness and unprecedented box-office success were at least matched and arguably surpassed by the vileness of its racist depictions of African Americans.

By one way of reckoning, this week — February 8, to be exact — can be called the 100th birthday of the medium that many of us have spent our lives enthralled with: the feature film. But don’t expect any parades, fireworks, grand speeches, or other shows of celebration. That’s because the film that premiered at Clune’s Auditorium in Los Angeles on February 8, 1915, was D. W. Griffith’s The Clansman, soon to be retitled The Birth of a Nation — the most virulently racist major movie ever released in the U.S.

Birth Of A Nation is the movie where many of the values associated with American filmmaking—complex intercutting, massed crowds of extras contrasted with close-ups of actors, carefully edited suspense and chase scenes—get their first really clear, fully formed expression. It’s also unquestionably white supremacist and racist. It represents a key point in the history of American art, and is animated by some of the ugliest rhetoric America ever produced.

The film is credited with reviving the racist KKK, who adopted it as a recruitment tool. “The Ku Klux Klan had been kind of a dead organisation by 1915, but when the film [came out and became a hit] the KKK was refounded, capitalised on [the film’s success] and in the 1920s became a massive organisation at the peak of nativist fervour in the United States,” says Paul McEwan.

“The Birth of a Nation” was the last straw for [William Monroe] Trotter. A proud intellectual (Harvard’s first black Phi Beta Kappa student) and a proud “race man,” Trotter was appalled, like many African-Americans, by Griffith’s film. And he was appalled that President Woodrow Wilson, whom he had rallied black voters to support, had screened “The Birth of a Nation” in the White House — the first film to be shown there.

What makes “Birth’’ most offensive is its depiction of its black characters — all of the prominent ones performed by white actors in blackface — during Reconstruction. Griffith depicts defeated Southerners being terrorized (and even disenfranchised from voting) by illiterate, corrupt and uncouth former slaves (seeking interracial marriage) under the influence of white Northern carpetbaggers. (A view still held by many 1915 historians, but long ago discredited).

Whether audiences at the time of The Birth of a Nation‘s release accepted Griffith’s vision, or whether they were repulsed by it and just wanted to forget the whole thing, it’s not hard to see how those attitudes could get passed along — through families, and through our schools, and through our culture in general. And with no competing mainstream force to counter the impressions left by such a film, what’s to stop them from lingering among us?

Which brings me to The Amazing Age of John Roy Lynch. More specifically, it brings me to a period in Lynch’s long life not covered by the main text in my upcoming book with Don Tate.

Our book focuses on his early years — his rise from slavery to the U.S. House of Representatives in just ten years. But after his stints in Congress, and after his service as a major in the Army during the Spanish-American War, Lynch became a historian. He had a central goal in mind: “placing before the public accurate and trustworthy information relative to Reconstruction” in the wake of much misinformation about that period.

I love Matthew Winner’s podcast to pieces. Listening to Let’s Get Busy! is a highlight of my week, every week, and I’m so honored to be the guest on his latest episode. If books for young readers play any significant role in your life, there’s a good chance you’ll love the conversations that elementary teacher librarian Matthew has with the creators of those books.

In this episode, we discuss how Tom Lichtenheld and I adapted Shark Vs. Train for “board-book-chewing enthusiasts,” finding a way in The Amazing Age of John Roy Lynch to let some light shine through the dark legacy of Reconstruction, and why it’s important to write awful stories.

I also take a swing (a kick? a boot?) at Matthew’s traditional episode-ending stumper: In an all-star, dream-team, kidlit kickball tournament, what one figure from the world of children’s books would I want to make sure was on my team?

With all that Eerdmans Books for Young Readers did squeeze into those final pages, it’s not surprising that there wasn’t room for us to include a bibliography of the sources I consulted for the book. So, I’m presenting them here (along with a shout-out for Douglas R. Egerton’s 2014 book The Wars of Reconstruction, which came out after my text was finished but which I’m currently reading and finding fascinating):

The American Experience: Reconstruction: The Second Civil War. Produced and directed by Llewellyn M. Smith and Elizabeth Deane. DVD, 2003.

Bell, Frank C. “The Life and Times of John R. Lynch: A Case Study 1847-1939.” Journal of Mississippi History, Volume 38, February 1976.

Campbell, Tracy. Deliver the Vote: A History of Election Fraud, an American Political Tradition — 1742-2004. New York: Carroll & Graf, 2005.

And you guys, the art I’ve seen from Cathy Gendron for our fall 2015 book, ‘The Nutcracker’ Comes to America: How Three Ballet-Loving Brothers Created a Holiday Tradition, is flat-out gorgeous. I can’t wait to start pinning images from that, so keep an eye out, OK?

For a generous glimpse of the art from Don Tate’s upcoming book Poet: The Remarkable Story of George Moses Horton of Chapel Hill, as well as from our collaboration The Amazing Age of John Roy Lynch, head on over to Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast.

Don’s been my friend for many years, but I learned a lot about him from his interview with Jules, and now I like him better than ever.

So, if you’ve seen me in action before and now wonder “Does he still offer that one?” or “Does he have anything new?” or “Good heavens, is he STILL talking about that?” — well, now you’ve got your answer.

This month, one subscriber to my Bartography Express newsletter will win a copy of Burning Nation (Scholastic), the second book in Trent Reedy’s Divided We Fall YA trilogy

If you’re not already receiving Bartography Express, click the image below for a look. If you like what you see, click “Join” in the bottom right corner, and you’ll be in the running for the giveaway at the end of this week.